Saffron Alley by A.J. Demas

Author:A.J. Demas [Demas, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sexton's Cottage

Chapter 11

When they came back out into the shop, custom had died down and the men were chatting behind the counter while Ariston and Sorgana refilled and rearranged dishes of sweets.

“And of course in the summer,” Marzana was saying, “there are plenty of good beaches for sea bathing. I’ll introduce you to my trainer.”

“I have to go fetch Sandy from Audia and Phoros’s,” Chereia told her husband, “and then Audia and I are going to the temple just quickly before dinner. Varazda, do you want to leave Ariston with us for the evening? You and Damiskos might like to walk home together.”

“Hey,” said Ariston from the kitchen, “I’m not a kid.”

“It’s the Asteria,” Varazda and Marzana reminded him in chorus.

“Yes,” said Varazda to Chereia. “Thank you. Shall we?” He looked at Dami.

Dami nodded and retrieved his cane. He said a warm goodbye to Marzana and his family.

“I like your friends,” he said when they were out in the street.

“Marzana and Chereia are wonderful,” Varazda agreed.

It felt a little awkward to be alone again after all the events of the day. Varazda had to look at the sky to remind himself what time it was. Only early afternoon; it felt as if it should have been much later.

“Marzana was telling me I should take up swimming,” Dami said. “Apparently it’s excellent exercise—he says it’s his main way of keeping fit. I’ve never swum much myself, not living near a good pool or having a coastal villa or anything.”

“If you want to practice, I can take you to the Baths of Soukos—they have the best pool in the city.”

“So you said.”

“Ah, I did, didn’t I.”

After a moment, when Varazda didn’t come up with anything more to say, Dami went on talking about exercise regimes. Varazda had never thought much about what people who didn’t dance could do to keep their bodies fit, or how much work went into maintaining a physique like Dami’s when anything that involved much bending of the knees had to be avoided.

He wanted to say that Dami need not worry on his account, that much as he enjoyed Dami’s muscles, he didn’t expect Dami to be able to keep them up forever. He didn’t expect himself to be able to stay fit enough to dance forever; it was something he had thought about a lot and had made his peace with.

He wanted to say, “I’d love you even if you got fat.” But he’d never told Dami that he loved him, and that would decidedly not be the right way to say it. Supposing that he decided to say it at all.

“I don’t expect to be able to stay fit forever,” Dami said, as if he’d heard Varazda’s thoughts, or some of them. “I’ve known that at some point I’ll have to sacrifice my vanity if I want to keep walking at all—almost everything I do wears away at my bad knee, and it’ll only get worse over time. So I suppose swimming might be good.”

“I’ll take you,” said Varazda firmly.

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